Coffee
by flootzavut
Summary: This one has been haunting me for a while. A idea I may revisit in a different way in the future. Major character death. Kibbs. Angst. Memories of Kate and memories of coffee.


The first time he stole her coffee, she'd been too new, too green, and much too much in awe of him to do anything but blink in surprise and snap her mouth shut on whatever choice words she might've been tempted to spit at him. Not that he'd thought about it in too much detail, and only later had it really registered that was the reason for the glares she'd shot his way the rest of the morning. He'd grinned to himself, then. She might not quite have the balls to challenge his right to her caffeine - _yet_. But she would. Those glares... He knew for sure, then, that he'd made the right decision hiring her.

He also remembered the first time she hinted that maybe he owed her a cup. He'd ignored the implication - to start buying his subordinates coffee could set a dangerous precedent. And also he didn't want to _ever_ have to walk into a coffee shop and order coffee that had a shot of hazelnut in it. Ever. No way.

After that, the times merged together a bit. Occasionally she'd actually buy two cups of coffee, and he caught the satisfaction on her face the first time she got his coffee order absolutely right. His murmur of pleasure had given him away, and she hadn't been able to hide her smile.

She wasn't stupid, obviously - she knew it had to be black. But it took her a while to figure out that there was no such thing as too strong, and that what he really liked was a dark roast that was so bitter and thick it was practically tar. Or at least, that was her opinion of it, judging by the way she wrinkled up her nose whenever she saw him gulping it down with enjoyment.

The first time he bought her coffee, she'd been... taken aback. After almost a year of working with him, she had become less easy to shock, surprise or startle, but turning up at her coffee house with two cups of his own preferred blend had succeeded in all three. The fact that he'd managed to do so pleased him more than he would've admitted even to himself. It was fun seeing Kate off balance - he never knew quite which way she'd topple, and was quietly impressed that she never seemed to actually fall over.

Buying her coffee had never become a regular occurrence. Something about that morning at DC beans... It had been a bit too enjoyable poking her and prodding her, he'd felt a little too much interest in her personal reactions to their terrorist, as opposed to her profiler's opinion. When she'd gone missing a few hours later, he'd felt a little bit too desperate, too scared, for him to be comfortable repeating any of it, even a little. It was, all told, a nightmare that he had no wish to revisit. One he had no desire to analyse to figure out what had made it such a nightmare.

Just occasionally, out on a case together, they'd need coffee. He always paid. Force of habit. He could no more let her pay for her own coffee than he'd hit her. She'd learned quickly not to protest. But he never ordered for her, never gave any indication of whether he even cared how she took it. Let alone the fact that he was mildly amused by her changing tastes, her increased willingness to drink it without adulteration, her growing frustration with any brew that wasn't strong enough.

She was a good coffee drinking companion, he discovered. The slightly nervous chatter which had characterised their early working relationship had settled down, over the months, and with a cup of coffee in her hand she seemed able to enjoy a comfortable silence with him.

The last time they had coffee together she was on his protective detail, and he hadn't stolen hers. He'd poured a generous measure of _his_ into the almost empty cup she'd been looking at with the kind of sad puppy eyes he usually found annoying rather than irresisistible. Maybe it was because she hadn't been looking at him, or anyone else. Not trying to get her own way, or make them feel sorry for her. In fact, he was pretty sure she'd had no idea she was pulling a face at all, or that anyone else might notice, and her surprised smile had been worth every last drop of caffeine.

She had died, later that day.

There were lots of things he regretted. But he never regretted letting her share his coffee.


End file.
